


Spoonfuls of Honey

by Ilrona



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 18:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8412304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilrona/pseuds/Ilrona
Summary: Kylo Ren gets sick on a mission. At least he has a cup of tea with honey and Hux’s company once he gets back to the Finalizer, even if he also wonders very briefly what it would be like to be sick if he were a lesser man.





	

The tea scorches his tongue: Kylo likes that it hurts, sudden and hot. It's annoying that he feels too unwell to ignore it, but there’s no horrible pain. He knows how to deal with that. He can focus on the bright, searing pain caused by a blaster bolt or a breaking bone, can grit his teeth and clench his fist and harness the suffering. Using the pain he can make himself stronger to obliterate everyone that dared to hurt him on the battlefield.

But he can’t focus on anything now. He must have caught the illness somewhere on that damn planet: he can’t blame another person. The weakness is everywhere in his body; it makes his head feel hazy and his muscles weak, but there isn’t one atom in his body that  _really_  hurts. Even his slightly sore throat is only unpleasant, but not painful.

“Welcome back to the Finalizer, Ren.”

Kylo grunts. It’s not the sweetest greeting. Hux doesn’t seem hurt.

Kylo knows why Hux is here: he wants to fuck. He probably fantasized about it last night after he got Kylo’s message that Kylo will arrive soon. He touched himself, blushing in the darkness of his bedroom, his loud moans barely muffled by his pillow, thinking about their wild reunion sex. About how good Kylo’s teeth will feel against the sensitive skin of his small shoulder as he fucks Hux against the wall, both so eager for the other most of their clothes are still on. They usually fuck very soon after Kylo comes back from a mission, unless he’s too injured: then the sex is postponed until he gets out of the medbay.

Now Hux gets only this: a sick Kylo Ren with a cup of steaming tea and used tissues on the table.

“Sit down, Hux.” Sitting while Hux is standing makes him uncomfortable: having to look up at the slightly shorter man is unpleasant, but Kylo doesn’t have enough strength to stand, not for who knows how long Hux will stay. Were Kylo not a master of the dark side of the Force, he would lie down in his bed, pull the blanket up to his chin and wait for the illness to leave his body. But he is, and even allowing his weakened body to sit instead of standing makes him feel like he is a failure. “I’m a little sick. I’ll get better soon, though.”

“You should have gone to the medbay before your mission. We have shots. Every officer and Stormtrooper must get them – and you.” Hux sits down, arranging his legs carefully so that his boots don’t touch the dirty tissue on the floor.

“I see,” Kylo says.

Kylo grabs the jar of honey sitting on the table, like a golden Emperor among an army of white tissue-Stormtroopers. “You know what this is, General Hux?”

“Honey.”

Kylo frowns. He was looking forward to teaching an ignorant Hux what honey is: giving him a spoonful and watching him sigh in wonder as the golden sweetness melts on his tongue, then using his thumb to wipe away the honey from the man’s pink lips, making Hux blush.

Kylo opens the jar – the lid is tight, but he still has enough strength to do this, helped a tiny bit by the Force. He puts the jar under Hux’s nose: the nose twitches. For a moment Kylo worries he doesn’t like it, but then the corner of Hux’s mouth twitches too, and there’s a tiny but pleased smile.

“I’ll put a bit into the tea, and you can have some after, okay?” There’s already a spoon. He was just about to put the honey into his tea when Hux arrived.

“You put it into the tea?” Hux sounds confused.

“What do  _you_  do with it?”

“When I was a child and I was sick I had to eat eight spoonfuls of honey. We didn’t have tea.”

What a weird Imperial habit. Kylo puts two spoonfuls in, starts to stir. Hux stares at the clay cup like he expects it to blow up.

“I liked being sick as a child,” Hux starts, once he realizes the cup will remain whole. Kylo continues stirring. “I refused to use it as an excuse to try to get out of exercises or homework. Even when I felt like vomiting, or I was so feverish my whole body was shaking, I always did what I had to do. I once even fainted after running, but only when the last lap was finished! My father praised me for it – he liked that I didn’t let the sickness get in the way of doing my duty. And I liked that he liked that, that he was proud of me. He wasn’t often proud of me, so when he was – that was really nice.” Hux sounds proud of himself, of the child he used to be, too.

Kylo stops stirring. He doesn’t know what to say.

He leans closer to the tea, enjoying how the steam rising from the cup caresses his nose and his lips. But then he feels his nose start to run, and quickly moves away before some snot could drip into his tea. He blows his nose, feeling a little awkward because it sounds loud and embarrassing in the silence that surrounds them.

At least he isn’t coughing uncontrollably now.

He remembers that time little Ben travelled with his father and Uncle Chewie to Kashyyyk, and coughed so horribly that Ben’s father asked whether he’s trying to speak in Shyriiwook. Ben scowled at him, then had another fit of coughing. Later, he got a plate of flat-biscuits with delicious forest honey glazed on them, but his throat hurt so much it was difficult to eat. There are other fragments of memory (Han Solo trying to make his son feel better, making him laugh with stupid jokes, a warm hand on his shoulder), but Kylo shoos them away as if they were annoying insects.

“Did you at least succeed in your mission, Ren?”

“Yes,“ Kylo says.

It’s a bit more complicated. He did get some information from the smuggler, though the interrogation was a bit of an ordeal: Kylo often had to suck the snot back into his nose so it won’t get into his mouth. He even considered taking the damn helmet off a few times – it’s not like the smuggler would tell anyone how Kylo Ren looks like after Kylo kills him. But Kylo kept the mask on as he made the smuggler tell him about selling the several hundred years old lightsaber to a ‘collector of curiosities’ (that’s the phrase the smuggler used, as if the lightsaber was just some fancy old trinket!) on Nar Shaddaa four months ago. Once Kylo knew everything, he cut the smuggler’s head off with his lightsaber. Then he took the helmet off and finally blew his nose.

He will travel to Nar Shaddaa once he gets better, take the lightsaber from the collector, travel to Snoke and give it to him: then Kylo will succeed in his mission. But Hux doesn’t have to know all the little details.

“Try the honey.”

Hux doesn’t need more coaxing. His eyes close when his mouth closes around the spoon. Kylo can sense the sweet pleasure in his mind even with his now weakened ability to use the Force. It’s not like how Hux feels during sex, the red burning lust and the overwhelming pleasure as Kylo gives him his orgasm. It’s something simpler, less intense, but still good. Hux thinks the honey is delicious, Kylo can feel that as clearly as he can hear Hux’s small pleased sigh as the empty spoon leaves his mouth. Kylo smiles into his cup of tea.

“It’s good that you’re back, Ren, and that your condition is not life-threatening, even if you’re a bit under the weather. If you wish to be alone, I can leave. I’m here only because I… I just–“

Hux puts another spoonful of honey into his mouth, as if to stopper his lips before any more words could fall out.

“You just what, Hux?”

There’s a blush on Hux’s cheeks now. It warms Kylo’s chest more than the hot tea, and makes his body feel even weaker, but in a much nicer way than the illness does.

“I just – missed you. It. Having sex with you is so good, I wanted it. I wasn’t expecting you to be sick. But if you want to be alone, just tell me.”

It's good to see Hux again, Kylo has to admit. But he  _is_ glad to be finally back in his quarters, away from the others. He could take off the helmet without worrying about some officer or Stormtrooper catching a glimpse of his face; even when he’s healthy his naked face is so much more vulnerable than the metal face of his helmet, and now it’s even worse.

Though, he doesn’t look noticeably more awful now. He looked into the mirror in the refresher before making his tea: his face isn’t a lot paler or clammy, though his nose is a bit red. He’d almost prefer some outward proof of his sickness to appear on his face, a scar or something, just so he could take it more seriously.

“This is so insulting. A runny nose and feeling a little weak is all I get? It’s like the Force wants to annoy me. Does it think I’m so frail I couldn’t withstand something more? I don’t want to be coddled or spared! If I had to become sick, why can’t I truly be sick?”

“Are you really complaining that your symptoms are not worse?” Hux glares at him. “Be glad you don’t have to spend weeks in the medbay! Anyway, don’t worry about not getting to suffer enough. Knowing how reckless you are, you’ll end up with your guts spilling out of your stomach in no time. Would you enjoy that?”

Hux doesn’t understand the Force. If Kylo were feeling better, perhaps he would try to explain how the dark side of the Force is fueled by pain, and that one can get more powerful only if they can overcome hardships and deal with suffering. It’s not a comfortable life for spoiled, weak beings.

Or perhaps he wouldn’t bother with lecturing Hux. If Kylo were feeling better, he would have Hux in his lap in this very moment, riding Kylo’s dick and moaning wantonly into his mouth.

“I don’t  _enjoy_  pain. But it makes me stronger, and brings me closer to the Dark.”

Hux sighs. He looks sullen; annoyance makes his eyes hard. “Does the Dark forbid you to answer questions? Because I asked you whether you want me to leave.”

“What do you do when you’re sick?”

“I’m never sick, because I get my shots.”

It’s true that Kylo doesn’t remember ever seeing Hux sick. Hux has some pills for insomnia, which sort of counts as an illness, maybe, and there's the chronic tenseness and stress, but he rarely leaves the Finalizer to catch any infections and doesn’t get into battles, at least not like Kylo does, who fights with his body; whose body gets injured. Hux doesn’t even get harmless sicknesses like the one Kylo has now, though it would be quite amusing to watch Hux try to give one of his solemn, passionate speeches while sneezing between the sentences and having to pause to blow his nose or deal with snot getting into his mouth.

“You said you used to be sick when you were a child.”

“Yes,” Hux admits. “As I mentioned before, when I was sick I still worked just as hard, and when I was finally done, I felt so tired. It felt like a gift to be able to  _rest,_ and it was sweeter to fall asleep when I was sick. Maybe you should do that too. The mission must have been tiring. The Dark doesn’t forbid sleeping, does it? You deserve some sleep now. I’ll leave.”

Hux reaches for the jar of honey again: wanting one last spoonful before he has to get out of Kylo’s quarters. There’s no honey in either the kitchens or the medbay of the Finalizer, at least Kylo doesn’t think so. After all, honey isn’t necessary to live.

It isn’t even truly necessary now. It helps, but Kylo knows he would get better even without it. But he saw the jar in the tiny spaceport shop, and remembered the taste from his childhood, and how nice it was to lick that sweetness out of the corners of his mouth. Knights of Ren are not meant to enjoy the small pleasures of life, and the food the First Order has is nourishing but very bland. But Kylo sometimes misses nice food.

Hux pushes the spoon into his mouth like a starving child.

“As a small child I thought honey is inside a fruit, you know, sort of like eggs. I imagined these huge rows of trees with thousands of fruits on some faraway tropical planet. Then one day an older cadet explained that honey is made from the blood of insects, and that they must be slaughtered to drain them of their blood. I found that very horrifying, and said I won’t eat honey ever again.” Hux laughs self-depreciatingly, which is very uncharacteristic, because he’s always so confident, his arrogance unfaltering. “So my father explained that sometimes we have to kill others to gain things. The way he said it was much more sophisticated, of course, but that was the gist of it. Don’t mock me for this! I was about seven or eight years old, or perhaps ten, but not more than that! A very naïve, very stupid little boy. But father taught me – he taught me a lot. Anyway. I’m leaving now, so you can rest.”

“I wasn’t thinking about mocking you,” Kylo says. He does sometimes mock Hux, but only for things he does or says now. Kylo knows, better than most, that you’re a very different person when you’re a child. “But your father also explained that the cadet was wrong, and the insects don’t die, right? They store the honey in their hives. They eat it, I think? I mean, their food is stolen so we can eat it, sure, and maybe some of them get killed accidentally, but they’re not slaughtered like that cadet told you, because the honey is not their blood.”

Hux frowns. “But my father–“

“He lied,” Kylo interrupts him. “Fathers do questionable things sometimes.”

“What if  _you_  are lying?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Why would my father lie?”

“I don’t know your father, so I have no idea why he does anything.” Kylo yawns so wide his eyes water. He’s now very tired – even without the sickness he would be, but now it’s especially bad.

Hux sniffs, as if he's also sick. He sniffs sometimes, when he’s upset about something. It’s a ridiculous habit, but Kylo is sort of fond of it.

“Well, I’m glad the mission was successful,” Hux says, standing up. “Goodbye, Ren.”

Kylo walks to the door with Hux. He doesn’t stand too close, worried he’ll sneeze into Hux’s face. He wishes he could kiss Hux – he will, once he gets better. There will be so many kisses.

Hux opens his mouth. He stares up at Kylo, his eyes uncertain. Kylo starts to be afraid he will say something like ‘Are you sure you will be fine, don’t you need me to be there?’, as if Kylo Ren were some helpless fool unable to take care of himself.

In the end, Hux closes his mouth, turns his head away. He leaves.

Later, lying alone in his cold bed, Kylo imagines how he would deal with this stupid sickness if he were, well, not who he is. He wouldn’t have to swallow his own disgusting snot under his helmet, because there would be no helmet, and he could always simply blow his nose. If he… He doesn’t want to think about that other life, the life of the Light and the New Republic, of course, but maybe he could be a normal person on the Finalizer, a radar technician or something silly like that, someone insignificant who doesn’t have to be stronger and more powerful than everyone else.

But then General Hux wouldn’t care about him. So Hux would have to be insignificant too, maybe one of the engineers helping with Starkiller or a mechanic who fixes TIE fighters. They would live in the same quarters. They would be dating.

One day, Kylo would get sick. He would admit he isn’t feeling well and he would be allowed to leave his work sooner. The Hux of this fantasy wouldn’t look down on him because of it like the real General Hux would (so proud of his child self, who would rather work until he fainted than admit he’s feeling too unwell). Instead he would help Kylo sit down, fuss over him with sweetly worried eyes, checking his forehead to make sure he doesn’t have a fever. He would rest his head in Hux’s lap, Hux’s fingers playing with his hair; it would be very soothing, it would feel so lovely. They would watch a holodrama, cuddling under a heavy blanket, maybe, or listen to Hux reading poetry from his datapad. Hux would force so many spoonfuls of honey into his mouth that Kylo would start to hate it, but he would still be so glad he has someone who cares for him.

But that’s not his, not their life, and so Kylo lies alone in his cold bed. He should be grateful, no, he is grateful that he’s the leader of the Knights of Ren and the co-commander of the Finalizer, that the Supreme Leader himself is his master. He shouldn’t wish for Hux to be less than who he is, either.

* * *

Next morning Kylo feels worse when he wakes up. His throat is awful, and he stumbles on his way to the refresher like an idiot. His forehead is unpleasantly hot.

He wants to go to the bridge, even if only for a few minutes, so the officers will see he’s back on the Star Destroyer. He’s one of the commanders, after all, and it's good if the others see him sometimes, even if he has to leave the Finalizer more often than Hux.

Hux looks away from the screens he’s standing in front of when Kylo walks closer. He doesn’t say anything, but he frowns, his eyes intense. Is he worried? Surely he can’t sense how miserable Kylo is feeling, he isn’t Force-sensitive, though perhaps the slope of Kylo’s shoulders or the tilt of his head is different now, and they reveal his discomfort.

He doesn’t dare to say anything, afraid his voice – even with the vocoder – would betray his sickness, but he hardly ever talks if it isn’t necessary, so the officers around them aren’t surprised.

He gives Hux a quick nod, then leaves. He doesn’t expect Hux to follow him, but Hux does. Hux’s posture is as stiff as ever, but his steps are smaller than usually: he’s trying not to walk quicker than Kylo, whose sickness slows him down a bit. Kylo feels irrationally grateful about this.

“There’s medicine stronger than honey in the medbay, Ren,” Hux says once they reach Kylo’s quarters. “Do you want me to get some for you?”

“So you can eat all the honey instead?” Kylo teases.

Hux rolls his eyes while his cheeks turn pink. Kylo smiles behind the helmet.

“Come back after your work is done, Hux. I’ll send you a message if I need any medicine. Go back to the bridge now.”

When Hux arrives… If Kylo doesn’t feel much worse, they could, maybe, do something together. Not discussing some mission as co-commanders, not fucking, but… They would spend time together as something like friends. They would eat honey, then try to find out together what exactly those mysterious insects do to create honey. Maybe they could watch a holodrama until Kylo falls asleep with his head on Hux’s shoulders, or he would doze off while Hux talks about poetry or history or engineering or whatever else he likes. Would Hux be mad at him? Maybe he wouldn’t be too mad. Maybe he would understand how exhausted this sickness is making Kylo.

Kylo walks into his quarters, takes his helmet off with a scowl. He feels dizzy. He thinks he has a fever.

Hux will come later, he thinks as he blows his nose into a tissue. Kylo just has to wait for him.


End file.
